Rhythm of War (The Stormlight Archive #4) - Brandon Sanderson Page 0,202

ultimately end up needing our help—though I think that Shallan and Kaladin helped turn the battle when we arrived.”

Notum nodded. “I am marching along this road toward Lasting Integrity, but will be forced to turn back when I draw near. Perhaps we will meet again along the path, human prince, and I can dissuade you from this course.” He continued on.

Ua’pam and Zu were already on the barge, and they’d apparently arranged for Adolin’s party to set up in one of the several camps established outside town. So Adolin joined the others as they unloaded their gear—helping with the horses, then moving his weapons—all the while lost in thought.

Adolin had been useless in that battle at Thaylen City. The world was about gods and Radiants now, not handsome young lighteyes who fancied themselves skilled with the sword. Best thing he could do was accept that, then find a different way to be useful.

He would find a way to get the honorspren to listen to him. Somehow.

I do not share their attitude. If you can, as you suppose, maintain Odium’s prison for now, it would give us necessary time to plan. This is a threat beyond the capacity of one Shard to face.

Even weeks after first meeting one, Venli caught herself staring at the new brand of Fused.

These ones—called the makay-im, or “Those Ones of the Depths”—had access to one of her same Surges: the ability to turn stone into a liquid.

The Deepest Ones had smooth skin, no hair, and barely any carapace—just shells over their heads and genitals. This put their vibrant patterns on display across the full lengths of their sinuous bodies. Long-legged and long-armed, they reminded Venli of her current form, which was tall without reaching the unnatural willowy level of Raboniel and the builders like her.

The makay-im wore open-fronted robes, if they wore anything at all. They stayed aloof from the rest of the strike team as they moved through the frozen mountain passes. After weeks of traveling together, Venli still hadn’t been addressed directly by one of the Deepest Ones—though the pace Raboniel set left little time for chitchat.

These mountains, as far as Venli could tell, weren’t claimed by any particular kingdom. The isolated valleys were too inaccessible from the outside. Her team had been dropped in by Heavenly Ones several weeks before, then left to travel the rest of the way to Urithiru on foot.

The human fortress lay somewhere in here—presumed hidden and unassailable. Windrunner patrols made it impossible to fly in too close, but Raboniel felt that a small group of ground troops—moving carefully at night or during storms—would be able to approach the lower tunnels to the tower unseen.

So it was that Venli joined the rest of the group in moving out from the shadow of tree cover, crossing the stone ground. As on other days, Raboniel set a characteristically difficult pace, though Venli knew she wouldn’t start to feel tired until they’d been going for a few hours.

The ancient scholar had changed from stately robes into travel leathers suitable for battle, her topknot of pure red-orange hairstrands spilling down around her otherwise carapace-covered skull. She urged the group forward, increasingly eager. They were nearing the tower; only a few days now.

This highland valley was mostly barren, supporting just the most rugged of rockbuds and the occasional clump of squat trees, their branches interwoven to create a storm-resistant snarl. Though leaves on these trees would retract before storms, the branches remained firm and interlocked. There wasn’t a single lifespren in sight, though coldspren lined the ground, pointing toward the sky.

As one might expect, there were more rockbuds on the leeward slopes, but blasted scars of black ground and burned patches showed that when the Everstorm came through, it did not temper its fury. The heights seemed to suffer more lightning strikes than the lowlands did.

She hiked more quickly to pass the soldiers and position herself next to the Deepest Ones. She liked watching them, because they melded with the stone, even as they moved. The bright azure light of Honor’s Moon revealed thirty figures, some in rippling robes, sliding across the ground while standing. It wasn’t quite like the shetel-im, the Flowing Ones, who could slide across any surface as if it were slick. This was something different. The Deepest Ones stood with their feet sunken into the ground up past their ankles.

They moved like nothing Venli had ever seen. Like sticks in a current following a powerful highstorm, as if the stone